


Wait Til I'm Home

by whatstheproblembaby



Category: Glee
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatstheproblembaby/pseuds/whatstheproblembaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anon prompted: a fic where Kurt usually comes home late (around 9 or 10) but one night Blaine waits and waits and he doesn’t come home and it’s past midnight and Blaine starts worrying and then panicking that Kurt was hurt again while walking home, and by 1am Blaine finally decides to go out looking for him but he opens the door and to leave and Kurt is there, completely oblivious</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait Til I'm Home

“Perfect,” Blaine said quietly. He straightened up and surveyed his handiwork, pleased with the table display he’d managed to pull together on short notice after deciding he wanted to surprise Kurt with cheesecake from the fancy bakery a couple blocks away as a nice midweek treat. They’d already had some fresh flowers from the stand at the end of the block, and their artfully mismatched vintage plates shone in the light from their silver candlesticks, making the dessert look even more appetizing than usual. Blaine couldn’t wait to dig in.

Unfortunately, he had to wait at least another fifteen minutes for Kurt to get back from his rehearsal, and that was only if everything went smoothly. They were ironing out staging and sound issues, so even though Kurt was supposed to be home around 9:30, it was likely that he’d be closer to 10:30.

Blaine wasn’t too concerned, though. Kurt had sounded optimistic about their scheduled run-through, and there were plenty of DVRed episodes of _Face Off_ for him to watch until Kurt got back. Dessert would keep.

One episode turned into two, which turned into Blaine getting up to refrigerate the cheesecake and blow out the candles. He tried to ignore the rolling feeling in his stomach as he bustled around the kitchen.

 _It’s just a bad rehearsal,_ he thought. _Maybe we’ll just have to have cheesecake for breakfast._

He sat back down on the couch and stubbornly turned on another episode, determined to stay up and wait for Kurt to walk in. He wasn’t all that tired yet anyways, and too many terrified thoughts were looming in the back of his mind for him to feel comfortable trying to sleep.

“Stop that,” he muttered, trying to fill the suddenly cavernous apartment. “He’s just running late. You will _not_ get another heart-stopping phone call tonight.”

All the weak reassurances Blaine gave himself still couldn’t stop him from feeling sick when the episode turned out to feature bloody, battered zombie makeup. He hurriedly flicked to HGTV, figuring David and Hillary’s bickering might be a little less ominous.

One and a half episodes later, Blaine hit the pause button so hard he thought he heard the remote crack. It was one in the morning and Kurt still wasn’t home, and he was incapable of just sitting there any longer. Snippets of news stories about people who had died because no one had found them in time kept playing through his mind, urging him to get up and comb every alleyway and abandoned building between their apartment and Kurt’s theater if he had to, if that’s what it would take to make sure Kurt was okay.

Blaine nearly tore his jacket as he snatched it off the hanger, jamming his phone and keys in his pocket before yanking the front door open and revealing-

“Kurt!” Blaine yelled, uncaring of the potential complaints from their neighbors. He seized both of Kurt’s hands in his, making sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. “Oh my God. Oh my _God._ You’re okay.”

“Why - _oof!_ \- why wouldn’t I be?” Kurt asked, stumbling when Blaine pulled him into a tight hug and nearly dragged him into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“It’s one o’clock in the morning, Kurt, I thought you’d been attacked again!” Blaine said. He pulled back a little to inspect Kurt’s face in the lamplight. “You haven’t been, right, baby? I mean, your face looks fine, but did they hit somewhere-”

“No, sweetie, I haven’t been attacked,” Kurt interrupted. “Rehearsal ran late, and then Jimmy tripped over a pothole on the way out and I was the only one willing to help him get home and ice his ankle. Didn’t you get my message?”

“What?” Blaine said, pulling out his phone. “No, there’s nothing - wait, now it’s coming in.”

_Be home late tonight, B, gotta help Jimmy after he twisted his ankle! Don’t wait up xoxox_

“Typical,” Kurt said, scoffing. “God, we’ve got to switch service providers.”

“We can start shopping around tomorrow,” Blaine said. “Right now, I need to reassure myself that you’re here and safe and not covered in bruises after another hate crime.”

“I’m fine, B,” Kurt said gently, pulling Blaine into his arms. “God, I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s not your fault, you tried to warn me,” Blaine said, leaning up to kiss Kurt quickly. “Now I don’t have to eat your cheesecake in revenge.”

“Cheesecake?” Kurt asked, perking up like an excited puppy.

“I was going to surprise you tonight,” Blaine explained. “I got cheesecake and set the table nicely and everything. I was even considering offering you a back rub if you were stiff from dancing again.”

Kurt’s crestfallen look made Blaine let out a watery chuckle.

“We could still have dessert if you want,” he said. “I’m probably too keyed up to sleep yet anyways.”

“You are the best husband a man could ask for,” Kurt said. He leaned in to kiss Blaine, smiling into it so much that he could barely pucker his lips. “And I promise, next time I have to come home late, I’ll make sure you know. I’ll set off smoke signals or emergency flares or something.”

“That’s all I ask,” Blaine teased. He went and grabbed the cheesecake out of the fridge, pleased to see that Kurt had relit the candles when he turned toward the dining table.

The ambiance was almost ruined when his adrenaline wore off mere seconds after sitting down, nearly making him faceplant into his food, but Kurt’s soft laughter and offer to help him by taking both pieces for himself more than made up for it.

(Even better than dessert? The feeling of contentment that washed over Blaine when he finally settled into bed, one arm around Kurt’s waist where it belonged. That position would always feel the most like _home_ to him.)


End file.
